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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22613536">Blood, Brass, and Bad Ideas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfress/pseuds/Wolfress'>Wolfress</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead by Daylight (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Character Development, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Hnn what am I doing?, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, This is terrifying okay, We'll see I guess, im not confident in my writing i hope this goes well</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:09:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22613536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfress/pseuds/Wolfress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwight was just supposed to be on a camping trip. A lousy, obligatory camping trip with his crappy co-workers and shitty boss. When he finds himself waking up in a strange world with strange people and no recollection of how he got there, Dwight figures he might finally get a chance to prove himself. Turns out, nothing really ever works out how you plan...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Claudette Morel/Jake Park, Dwight Fairfield/Evan MacMillan | The Trapper, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey there! This is my first full fanfic and I’m a little nervous, so please give feedback! I wanted to not just write a traditional ship fic: the story will have some SUPER slow slow-burn and a few background relationships (trust me, when it gets to the shipping you’ll know), but at the same time I also wanted to experiment with character development and the dynamics of the group over time. I have a lot of head canons, so some characters may be excluded or some lore changed, but generally I was inspired by the pre-established lore. This story (if it continues) will be really long and drawn out, so if you don’t like the idea of that I suggest you look for something else! Currently I really like where it’s headed, so I’ll try my best to work on it (tags will almost definitely change). Anyway, I’ll stop rambling now. Hope you enjoy!!!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dwight wakes up in a place that doesn't really make any sense, but before he explores he has to relive a camping trip that he didn't want to be on...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The world was being so terribly unjust. As he opened his eyes, blots of color and light swam before his vision, nearly materializing into fuzzy outlines of long, dark shapes before blending together once more. Dwight Fairfield closed his eyes again and pressed the palm of his hand into his forehead hard, then harder still, as if it would quell the rushing in his ears or the pounding on his brain. He lay on the ground like that for a good few minutes until he was sure he wouldn’t be sick, but it seemed life wasn’t quite done running its cruel trick because immediately upon standing up his stomach clenched and he collapsed, vomiting into the foliage at his feet. </p><p>The shape of the forest spawned around him. With aching eyes he took in his surroundings. It must have been fall, as the trees were painted with a spectacular palette of reds, yellows, greens, and browns, colors which also littered the forest floor and the open space that continued to circle his head. Looming trunks sprouted up and wound and branched through the colorful ensemble.</p><p>In an instant, Dwight realized he was naked. He would have made a motion to cover himself if there was anyone around to see. The crisp autumn breeze was like a temptress caressing long fingernails over every inch of his bare skin; he couldn’t help but shudder. Goosebumps formed on his arms and legs, and in a feeble attempt at maintaining his core temperature he crossed his arms over his chest and curled into a ball.     </p><p>Dwight’s head was spinning with confusion and fear and what seemed to be the lingering headache of a very nasty hangover. He took in every achingly bright autumn color, and suddenly the memories of the past couple nights came rushing back...</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> “And Nancy turned to me, and she says-she says, ‘Frank, I’ve got three weeks and then I’m out of this damn office forever. You really think I care if the man filled out his papers wrong? Get off your ass and fix it! Do some real work for once!’ I swear—no really!- crazy bitch would have tried to choke me if she could reach that high!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Free of piles of high-stacked papers and bursting folders, yet still plagued by the joys of office drama, Dwight was in the back of a sweltering van barreling down the interstate. The others seemed to be enjoying their situation enthusiastically more than him. A chorus of laughter rang, pausing only at the sound of a booming voice coming from the passenger seat.  </em>
</p><p><em> “Alright, quiet! All of you! Now—we are here to have fun—but I want you all to remember that this is a- a </em> company bonding experience <em> !” The man chuckled. “Lucky for me, I get to take all you new recruits out to have some fun, see what each other are made of! We’ll have games, Michelle’s organized some prizes, and… well, you’ll see soon enough. </em> However <em> …” He announced each syllable in the word and wagged a finger in the air, making it clear he was about to throw a wrench in a few people’s plans. “That doesn’t mean you’re running off to do your own thing. </em> Everyone <em> will be accounted for </em> at all times <em> and working together to-” The speech was interjected by a van’s worth of groans. “Oh, come on now! I don’t want to have to—have to drag a bunch of drunken idiots out of a lake. That’s bad for the company’s image!” He chuckled again. “If you’d rather, I can make Thomas turn this car around so you all can haul your sorry asses back to your desks.” </em></p><p>
  <em> The man took a breath.“Look, I said we were going to have fun on this trip, and I meant it.” The groans turned to mutters as the man produced a large briefcase from his feet and held it into the aisle behind him, as if displaying some prized item.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’d say most of you’d expect to score a touchdown for the 49ers before gettin’ one of these from me, but since it’s such a ‘special occasion’ and all...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dwight’s boss, Mr. Grawhner, was a man whose appearance at the office was a rare phenomenon, but from those who worked with him Dwight had heard that he was a hard-ass and, if he laughed, often did so at the expense of his employees. It was a surprise then to be greeted by the hilarious sight of the hardened businessman reaching into the briefcase and pulling out some dangerous alcohol.  </em>
</p><p><em> At least that’s what Dwight figured it was. The crystalline liquid sloshed about, despite the gentleman’s strong grip, in a mason-jar-like bottle which was decorated with an official looking, yet still evidently handmade, label </em> . <em> The name “Grawhner” was scripted elegantly across </em>. </p><p>
  <em> “Ah—here we are! Old family recipe! My brothers usually do the work—they’re the, uh…the experts—but since I was in town with them for a few weeks, they agreed to show me the ropes. This here—this is the real deal.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I thought this stuff was just a myth!” Todd burst from somewhere behind Dwight, making no effort to hide his enthusiasm. The van was filled by a growing buzz of excitement. “Michelle said she had it, but she’s always lying about something, so I just assumed…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mr. Grawhner looked unabashedly proud that his family’s alcohol had gained a reputation, even if it was simply for the entire scenario’s absurdity.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, yes, well… I guarantee you boys this stuff’s no myth, and it’s no joke, either. A couple shots of this’ll knock a horse out. Any night spent drinking this is a night you’re gonna wish you’d remembered!”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that promise, whatever dignity assured to last the trip was destroyed as the van broke out into a party of hoots and hollers. A few of the men started listing ideas for when they reached the camp, none of which were the regulated activities on Grawhner’s agenda. Todd and Stephen were questioning Grawhner on the details of his family’s brewing: when it was done, where they got the ingredients, the names of everyone involved—facts which the boss was much too eager to indulge.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “My father didn’t actually know if it would be me or my brothers who was successful in the end. I always had a knack for business, but Dave and Jimmy, well, they listened to everything Dad said. They started workin’ on the drinks when we were in high school, and I think it was around then they started making up their own recipes. They built a whole operation in our garage; you shoulda seen…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dwight drowned out the sound of his company. He had begun to wish, for once, that he was back in the office, slaving away at whatever menial task his superiors set on him. Filing paperwork and answering phones seemed a helluva lot better than spending a weekend with the people who thought of him as nothing more than a waste of space. This trip would mean another fruitless attempt at trying to blend in, narrowly avoiding conflict, and, although he could only dream of it, attempting to gain some sort of attention he actually wanted for once. The bullying he could take to an extent--he was used to it, after all-- but it was the ignoring, the purposeful denial of his existence, that got his blood boiling. What did they have that he didn’t? Why were they more deserving of respect than he? What did he have to do to get some sort of praise--maybe even the attention of a woman? His annoyance was replaced with a futile sort of hopefulness; maybe this time would be different than the others. Maybe the chicks from the office would flock out of their car and admire him for a change. Maybe for once they’d give him what he was owed--let him run his hands through their soft hair and feel their smooth skin under his fingers. They weren’t exactly tens, except for stunningly beautiful Michelle, but if he just closed his eyes… Oh, they would press their pillowy lips along his body singing songs of their desire, displaying their slim, graceful figures, whispering under their breath, “I want you, I want you…” In the rational part of his mind, Dwight must have realized that this was nothing but a desperate dream conjured through years of cowardice and rejection, but reality was no match for his fantasies. He wondered how--  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hey Fairweather, how much you willing to bet you don’t make it through one shot of this stuff before passing out?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dwight didn’t appreciate being ripped from his illusions so rudely. Gone were the phantom figures of unblemished females and in their place was Todd, peering into the back seat with a cruel smile. Dwight looked to his coworkers and was relieved to see that only a few had eyes on him. He might be able to get through this if he just kept his mouth shut… </em>
</p><p><em> “Hey, Dwight? Yoo-hoo? You listening, pal?” Dwight kept his eyes down, twiddling his thumbs in his lap and concentrating on taking deep breaths. </em> Breathe in: one…  two… three.... Breathe out: one… two… three… <em> It was a technique his sister taught him, and one he found especially useful in these circumstances. </em></p><p>
  <em>  “Fairweather, I-” Todd turned around and grabbed the glass jar of liquid from his bosses’ hand; Grawhner, who was deep in conversation with his arm dangling at his side, didn’t even notice. “Listen, do you have any idea what this is? Well, do you?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dwight fought the familiar feeling of panic and anger rising inside him. It seemed like he wasn’t going to escape in silence this time. He raised his head and focused his attention on the sloshing jar.  </em>
</p><p><em>“Believe it or not, Todd, I’ve see--I’ve </em>had <em>alcohol</em> <em>before.” </em>Idiot! Why did I say it like that?</p><p><em>Todd laughed. It seemed he at least missed the near slip-up. “Nah, see, Featherfield, I don’t mean accidentally sipping the spiked punch at your mom’s Halloween party.” A few of the surrounding men giggled. “I mean </em>real <em>alcohol. You ever taken shots? Got so blacked out you couldn’t remember your own name? Took home a woman to wake up with your bedroom trashed and your wallet missing? C’mon, Dwight, we want to hear all the</em> <em>juicy details.”</em></p><p>
  <em> Dwight clenched his teeth, daring not to make eye contact with his taunter. He could tell more were listening to the commotion now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Todd gave himself a smug nod, then seemed to change gears. “This here,” he said, holding out the jar, “this here is one-hundred-percent pure, concentrated moonshine. Here, take a look--” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dwight was caught off-guard when his co-worker tossed the bottle to him, barely managing to juggle it in his hands without smashing it to the floor. This brought even more joy to the bully’s face, if that was possible. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t want it,” he mumbled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What was that?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I said I don’t want it.” This time he growled the words and hurled the bottle back at Todd, who caught it without blinking. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Jeez, Featherfield. Don’t need to be so harsh about it. I was just tryin’ to add a bit of a spice into your boring-ass life. God knows you need it…” </em>
</p><p><em> The laughter halted as Dwight took out some of his pent-up anger by stomping the ground. He grounded himself by staring adamantly at the ground; he couldn’t say the words that were on his mind, but oh, how he wanted to… </em> No… <em> he told himself… </em>It only makes things worse…</p><p>
  <em> “What’s goin’ on back there?” This time Grawhner had turned around, and it appeared he had finally realized his prized moonshine was missing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Todd graciously handed the artifact back to him. “Nothing, Boss. Just asking Dwight here what he plans on doing when we reach the camp.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Grawhner gave a weary sigh. “Right, well… knock it off, you two. We don’t need any unnecessary aggression before we even get to the grounds.” He took another breath, then worked on a smile. “Save it for the festivities! We’ve got lots of games and competitions to win, and I need you all at your best!” </em>
</p><p><em> Dwight sighed now and let his head fall into his hands. </em>Off to a great start, I guess…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! I'm sorry this is so late and so horribly short. Things have gotten a bit crazy lately, and my mind drifted from this fic for a while. I hate being a disappointment, though, so while I can't guarantee this'll be updated again soon I figured I'd post this short chapter now and try to keep working on it if I got any more inspiration. Thank you all for your comments and kudos!<br/>Note: This is still part of the flashback, but since it's so drawn out I figured I would stop putting the text in italics. I'll make it clear when he gets back to the present.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the ride proved to be relatively uneventful. When they arrived, Dwight noticed the camp had three log cabins, much larger than he was expecting, and a number of shacks and sheds which seemed to be used for storing outdoor supplies. The green forested grounds were alight in the July afternoon sun--the air was stale, and the oppressing heat of the day was just beginning to dissipate. The office workers moved out of the two vans into a wide circle, and Mr. Grawhner shuffled to the front with a clipboard clutched in his hands. He exchanged a brief word with Thomas before addressing the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, now. We got enough rooms to set you up in groups of two or three, and I think most of you’ll be happy with the arrangements. Let’s see, now: in the first cabin we got, uh, Rob, Chris, and Joey in room number one, David J., David C.--oh, hey, look at that--and, uh Stephen. Room two. Then, well, I get the last room--so I trust you boys’ll keep it down at night!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So the big man gets a place to himself, huh?” Brian joked brazenly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Brian, when you’re CEO of your own company, you can make the rules, eh? Anyway, where was I? Right, second cabin. Todd, Stan, and Adam, you three are together. There are actually four rooms in this one, so the rest of you lucky boys get doubles. And we have… Mitchell and Nick, you’ll be together. Uh, Dwight and Michael, and finally… Brian and Gary. Anyone missing?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Adam raised a hand like he was in class. “Yeah, so when are the girls showing up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grawhner chuckled, “Well, you know how girls are. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Always</span>
  </em>
  <span> late to the party, right?” There was collective laughter now, most in agreement, but some that even Dwight could tell was a desperate attempt to suck up to the boss. He groaned inwardly; he expected to hear a lot more of that on this trip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hopin’ they’ll show up in a couple minutes. We’ll get everything sorted out and then you all can go and take a look around. Oh, and before I forget--the ladies will be staying in their own cabin for the week. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No sleepovers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, alright? I don’t want any of you getting any ideas. Believe it or not, rules about co-worker relationships still stand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his right Dwight saw Todd playfully bump Adam’s shoulder and nod. Smiles stretched widely across their faces, and Dwight got a sinking feeling in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unpacking was a mindless chore that provided Dwight some time to quiet his worries. He hadn’t packed much to begin with, and either way he just ended up flinging his stuff about his side of the room. The room itself was nice; it was a little simple, but it had the necessities to make it comfortable. Dwight’s bed was near the window, the other near the door. A set of dressers sat across from him, and on the nightstand between the two beds was an old radio and a lamp. A single painting of two fishermen at a lake hung on the gray-blue wall. Beside him, Michael was refolding laundry out of his suitcase.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it wasn’t all so bad. Dwight’s roommate, Michael… he was alright. At least, that’s what Dwight figured from what he knew of the guy, which wasn’t very much at all. He could fit in with the crowd well enough, but he also liked to keep to himself. He didn’t bully Dwight like Todd and Adam, which was a nice change, but then he was a strange in his own way. If Dwight had space in his busy schedule of anxiety and desperation he might have been curious to learn more about the man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dwight bent over his own suitcase and grabbed his sketchbook. He hadn’t had a proclivity for many things in his youth-- he couldn’t play music, he couldn’t dance, sports was a joke for him on a good day-- but drawing was something he was proud to say he was good at. Lonely moments, time left out on his own doing nothing but sitting, watching--it all led to more time to practice and refine his technique. His dad would say art wasn’t the hobby of a man, but for once this was something his father couldn’t take from him. He could keep his drawings private, unlike other things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dwight looked up from the sketchbook in his hands. He started when he was met with his roommate’s dark eyes watching him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re Dwight, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dwight was caught off-guard by the straightforward introduction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh... Yeah, yes, I’m… Dwight. Fairfield. Hi. And you’re—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Michael. Bailey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, I know who you are.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Michael furrowed his brow a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mean… Well, I mean, everyone knows who you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dwight cringed at himself. He hated how awkward he was at the best of times, and it was times like this one he was less surprised that he was the laughing stock of the community. He mentally distanced himself, preparing for the tirade of oh-so clever jokes at his expense, but to Dwight’s immense surprise (and infinite delight) Michael let it drop without a second thought. Instead his roommate nodded down at the tattered book in Dwight’s hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you draw?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, yeah I like to...sometimes..”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind showing me a few?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… there’s not really anything good in here. I haven’t… maybe I’ll finish something soon. And then, I don’t know, maybe you can--.”</span>
</p>
<p> <span>“Nah, man, I get it. I like my privacy, too.” Dwight couldn’t help but think the other man seemed just a little disappointed. Dwight fought the urge to nip at his thumbnail, instead slumping his shoulders and letting out a weary breath as he watched his roommate stand and make his way to the door. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna go see what the guys are up to. See you later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dwight nodded. “Yeah, sure. Later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He waited until the other man left the room to collapse on the bed. He ran his hands through his hair, then grasped at it reassuringly, similar to the way he might pet a dog if he wasn’t deathly afraid of it. Too much sweat clung to the inside of his t-shirt to be justified by the summer weather. It was a rare treat when someone in this crap town gave Dwight a chance, and the conversation left him with a shaky optimism. Of the thoughts that ran through his head, one rose above the others, and it was with sincere regret that Dwight knew he wouldn’t be able to say it out loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Thanks</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I figured I should mention this somewhere because I don't want people to get the wrong idea: a lot of the characters at the beginning are going to be somewhat sexist or homophobic--including Dwight--but it won't remain that way. The story is written from Dwight's thoughts, so his perception isn't always the most considerate (or even necessarily accurate).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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